Makes me wonder if I've forgotten how...

[mousme]

Think I may have forgotten how to be happy, dammit.

Cheerful, sure, but it doesn't seem to last. I thought I might have been overtired, but I've been sleeping well and enough lately.

Comment added later: don't read what follows unless you plan to be really disturbed. My thoughts are not quite as pleasant as they usually are. Lots of nasty graphic stuff in there.



Awful as it may sound (even to me), things were a lot simpler when I was depressed, isolated, and self–destructive. Suddenly I don't have an excuse to be feeling this way. My family is behaving, my friends are still great, as is the boyfriend, I have a good job, and I haven't cut in over two months.

So why the fuck do I feel so terrible? I should be happy now. The stupid little blue pills are meant to help too, and they're not. Sick as it may be, I miss the cutting. I feel so goddamned empty and useless and futile. Just a fucking waste of space, as usual.

Goddammit, why can't this just go away?

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

I'm tired of pretending to be happy, pretending to be normal. Tired of putting on a brave cheerful face every goddamned day for seven fucking years.

Just want it to be over. Want to take my razor blade and undo the last two months' hard work, watch myself bleed and hurt, hit my head against a wall until I black out. Crawl into a dark hole and never come out again.

Wish I could find it in me to give up, but I won't yet. Not even going to cut.

Stupid stupid stupid. That's all there is to it. Can't even have a nice relationship with a nice, decent guy without second–guessing myself every step of the way. It's been two months and already I'm questioning my own feelings, my motivations. Feel like I might just be using the poor guy in order to feel "normal," whatever the fuck that means these days.

Maybe whatever I'm feeling isn't real, just one last desperate pathetic attempt to prove to myself that I'm not a complete failure, not a complete freak. How do you convince yourself you're not a failure when you've carved the word into your leg? At least that scar has almost completely faded.

I've decided to wear shorts and skirts anyway. Fuck the world. If they see the scars, they can fucking deal and suck it up. I'm tired of pretending, of lying, of making up stories.

So much simpler when I buried myself under the covers and never came out for air. I was suffocating, but at least I was doing it myself. Now I'm suffocating under the puzzled and frightened stares of the well–meaning world.

How do you explain words carved into you? "Gee, I slipped and fell and the cut I got looks exactly like the word 'stupid.'"

Fuck again.

And now I have to get dressed and face the day and the world and be as okay as I possibly can. As much for me as the rest of them. If I can fool them, sometimes I manage to fool myself as well.

Comments

[miseri.livejournal.com]

you can call on me anytime.

[mousme.livejournal.com]

Thanks. :)

Hey...

[fearsclave.livejournal.com]

Toddled in past those warning signs and found myself in some familiar-looking real estate. Been in much the same headspace.

Some observations:

Freak you aren't. Failure you aren't. Stupid you aren't. You are a lovely, creative, pleasant, funny, talented, entertaining, moral, imaginative, tasteful, educated, upstanding, cultivated and extremely intelligent woman who I value enormously and am honoured to call my friend. You've got a good job, a boyfriend, and a new apartment. You've got a pack of friends who think the world of you. You've got some problems with depression, but you are working hard to overcome them.

Having abusive parents is not easy; it took me until I was thirty-one and getting over a myocardial infarction to really start analyzing just how twisted my upbringing had been and figuring out its effects on who I was and how I felt and how I thought about myself and my life. I realized that my depression problem had been happening on and off for as long as I can remember; it just took the pressure of bar school and my articling period and finding out that Suzanne and I were incapable of having kids together and a major maternal life fuckup and six months of working for an abusive sociopath and having my career go to shit to turn it into a major health issue. It got to the point where I had a shrink at the General ask me whether I was worried enough about my suicidal impulses to want to check into the Allan for the weekend. And then I decided to kill the sonofabitch dead (the depression, not the shrink), and all it really took was some cognitive therapy and antidepressants, plus some loving support from the Spousal Unit. And three years later I'm wiser, much happier, meaner, 25 pounds leaner and a helluva lot fitter, my career is back on track with a vengeance, I'm depression-proofed, and feeling largely on top of the world. My life rocks.

You are solidly on the right track to doing away with your own depression; cognitive therapy and antidepressants *work*. You're doing all the right things. You have the requisite strength of character, the will, and the desire to beat your depression. Moving out on your own will help a lot.

It is not going to be easy. It is not going to happen overnight. You are frequently going to feel miserable over the next few months. Remember that that is the depression, not you; you mind is temporarily not working properly. Remember that you are dealing with that problem. Remember that it is not you that is making you feel bad; it is years of parental issues (and maybe others) that are making you feel that way. It is not your fault. You are not to blame. You are no less wonderful a person just because you feel that way. Remember that if you stay the course, and take your pills, and listen to the shrinks and fill out the forms, and pay attention to the way your mind works and adjust it when it misfires (and maybe work out a bit on the side and play some PB or something; I cannot overemphasize what a difference regular exercise has made for me), you will be feeling very different a few years from now.

You will be wiser, stronger, much happier, have attained a greater degree of self-knowledge than many people do, and will have an understanding of how your mind works that will enable you to slay the depression should it ever rear its head again. You will be living up to your own expectations and satisfying your own wants and desires. You'll be walking proof that Nietsche was right about that which does not kill you. And you may have some faded scars. Big deal. If you die without scars, it means that you haven't lived. You'll look at them with pride; they'll be reminders of your victory; how far you've come since you felt badly enough to cut.

*big hug*

*picks up, spins around*

*thwacks on shoulder*

*hands over a full guppy*

Re: Hey...

[mousme.livejournal.com]

*squish*

You made me cry, you big bad ol' black turkey of ill omen. ;)

Damn, I'm lucky to have you all...

Re: Hey...

[meallanmouse.livejournal.com]

He said it all, and far better than I've been able to articulate yet... So I'll swipe shamelessly and say "Ditto!"

*hug*

Re: Hey...

[fearsclave.livejournal.com]

Eh. We're lucky to have you :).

A Friendly Reminder

[blackbuffet.livejournal.com]

I really don't know why you are so worried about facing the rest of the world but from what I have heard from the rest of the world, there really isn't much to be so concerned about. I (like the rest of the world) think that you are ONE OF THE BEST THINGS that has ever set foot on God's Great Green Earth.

I know it is not easy for you sometimes but you should think of this Friendly Reminder every time you wonder if you have forgotten how to be happy:

SOMEONE LIKE YOU WHO BRINGS SO MUCH JOY TO EVERYONE AROUND HER AND THE REST OF THE WORLD IS BOUND TO FIND EVEN MORE HAPPINNESS FOR HERSELF THAN SHE CAN EVER NEED SO THAT SHE CAN KEEP ON SPREADING MORE AND MORE JOY AROUND HER ONLY TO BE BOUND TO FIND EVEN MORE AND MORE HAPPINESS FOR HERSELF THAN SHE CAN EVER NEED SO THAT SHE CAN KEEP ON SPREADING MORE AND MORE JOY AROUND HER ONLY TO BE BOUND TO FIND EVEN MORE AND MORE HAPPINESS...

(Just keep going on that thought and don't stop :)

Were the skits and the shorts...fuck em' if they can't deal.

[xypharan.livejournal.com]

I have a scar that goes around my left arm in one full circle. It goes completely around and is about 2 mm wide. Its been over 2 years and it is very very visible (thats how deep it was.) I also have a chemical burn on my upper left arm that is bigger than a twoonie and at the time went all the way to the muscle. The doctor says that it will never go away, but will fade a bit more in time. (like 5 to 10 years). I must of done some nerve damage because sometimes when the weather is humid I can still feel it down in my elbow.

I work as a waiter in a semi-classy restaurant, and although I have to wear dress shirts sometimes they are dress shirts with short sleeves. I've made the decision not to hide my scars and its really helped me accept the fact that they are part of me now.
Because the scar on my arm goes all the way around people often ask me if my arm got cut off and had to be re-attached. I allways laugh at that. It amuses me greatly.
I think the worst thing about it is when I first get intimate with a girl. They probably know that 1 1/2 years ago I had some really ruff times but the first time we start getting naked together they see the scars and it kinda ruins the mood.

Don't be scared of your scars. One thing I once told someone I was close to was. "Everyone has scars, some you wear on your body, others you wear on the soul. The ones on the soul are deeper" It may be a tad dark, but its true. Everyone has scars, you don't have to feel like you are alone, or different because you have some on your body as well.